


Look at Me

by cxrclet



Series: Thranduil/Reader Collection [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Cupid leggy, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2421026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxrclet/pseuds/cxrclet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Imagine Thranduil getting jealous when he thinks you might like his son more than him." - imaginexhobbit</p>
            </blockquote>





	Look at Me

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing: Thranduil x King’s Ward!Reader

"Red suits you, [Y/N]. The colour of passion…it’s very like you." As Legolas place upon your head a flower crown made of a vibrant shade of crimson roses; you offer him a warm, albeit sheepish, smile; your fingers moving up to gently brush over the velvety petals just before you meet the icy gaze of the Elvenking, Thranduil, who sat at the head of the dinner table beside yourself and the young prince of Mirkwood.

While a look of puzzlement briefly crossed your elven features, you inwardly wondered if that expression had been meant for you. Your thoughts, however, were cut short when Legolas requested permission to be excused from the table - in which his father replied with a somewhat exasperated sigh and then a simple nod. 

With only you and Thranduil left at the table, the smile on your face faded into a thin line as you made an attempt to finish the scrumptious meal prepared by the royal chef, but to no avail for as your appetite had long left you.

You heard the faintest sound of silver cutleries settling on the wooden table before the rich, resonating voice of the king addressed you, “Is it not to your kiling, Hiril vuin?” Though he asked, his tone lacked genuine interest - if anything you could only discern a sense of detachment.

"Ha…Have I done something to displease you, Ada?” You raised your eyes with bubbling hopes to convey your concern through them - instead you found a pair of seething wintry orbs piercing through your very being before a loud slam startled you in your seat.

"Leave us." Thranduil’s authoritative command filled the once silent dinning hall, sending the guards away with a languid gesture of his wrist.

Once completely alone, he wiped the corner of his lips with the silk napkin which previously rested on his lap before rising up to look down on you. “I am not your father.” He spoke coldly.

You also rose to your feet, utterly confused by his unprecedented behaviour. For all the years you had been in his care, you have always called him ‘Ada’ and not once did he ever correct you — why now? “I don’t understand..” You mumbled as you cast your gaze to the side, narrowing your eyes as though it would make it easier for you to understand the enigma that was Thranduil.

His shoulders dropped guilty, then followed by a resigned sigh, “Is that truly the only way you see me? Your father?” Though his facade of indifference concealed it well, his heart broke each time you called or referred to him as your ‘Ada’. 

"What?"…and just when you thought you couldn’t be more puzzled…"Y-You’re not making any sense, Ad—-."

Giving you no more chances to break his heart, Thranduil sneaked a strong arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest until your warmth melded with his. “What of Legolas? Is he nothing but a brother to you? Why do you smile so sweetly to him?” There was a hint of desperation in his voice as his free hand cupped the side of your face, “Why do you only offer me formalities? Am I not worthy of your smile?”

While what just unfolded before you left you speechless, what occurred soon after literally shut your mouth.

Thranduil had lowered his head to capture your lips in a sullen, though passion filled, kiss, both his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you further within his embrace.

It must have been just mere seconds but with your befuddled mind; you’re no longer certain.

Once he managed to muster enough control to release your lips, he pressed his forehead against yours, “Never…call me Ada again.”

And never you will indeed.


End file.
